


Skyfall Inn

by Persiflage



Series: Bondkink Fics [6]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Bond is Suave, Clothed Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Time, Girls with Guns, Illnesses, Jealousy, M is Sexy as Hell, Older Woman/Younger Man, Oral Sex, Prompt Fic, Vulnerability
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-19
Updated: 2012-12-19
Packaged: 2017-11-21 13:35:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/598341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: M's forced into early retirement and takes a holiday at the Skyfall Inn which changes her life, and that of its owner, James Bond.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the bondkink comm on LJ. The prompt was _Craig!Bond/Dench!M, AU, Age-difference!Kink, First time, Rain!sex, Gun!Porn, Angst, H/C. The prompter also noted that "it would be awesome if you included Vesper as James's old flame-turned-into-best-friend, taking care of the inn's finances and joining forces with M during snark-hour vs Bond. Also let Tanner visit & Kincade's matchmaking skills shine :)_  
> I did my best to meet all the requirements.  
> Spoilers: Skyfall (if you squint)  
> Disclaimer: No profit is made...

The woman formerly known as M, head of MI6, Britain's overseas intelligence service, glared out of the window of her sitting room, the sight of the rain making her feel even more grumpy.

She'd been forced into retirement from the job she loved after a rogue agent had badly injured her while attempting to take over MI6's main Headquarters in London, and she bitterly resented being put out to pasture. To make matters worse, her former Chief of Staff, Bill Tanner, had insisted on booking her a holiday at the Skyfall Inn, in the remote Glen Coe region of Scotland. It was September, but felt more like December because the weather had turned cold and wet at the weekend, which was adding to her depression. 

"Next time I'll go to bloody Majorca, or the Costa Brava," she muttered petulantly. 

A knock at the door broke into her thoughts and she opened it to find Kincade, the general manager, on the other side, bearing a large tray.

"Breakfast Mrs M," he said, rather unnecessarily since she could smell the food.

"Thank you Mr Kincade." 

She held the door open wider so he could bring the tray in, watching as he set it down on the table beside the window. She couldn't help noticing that, as there had been every morning, there was a small posy of flowers in a slim vase on the tray, and she felt touched by his kindness. In truth, he was the only bright spot to her visit: she'd arrived three days ago, and he'd been unfailingly courteous to her from the moment she'd stumbled, stiff and exhausted by the long drive from London, through the doors. Nothing was too much trouble for him, and she'd been flattered that he treated her almost as if she was the Queen Mother herself.

"Anything else I can get you, ma'am?" he asked.

"No, thank you Mr Kincade."

He tugged at the peak of the flat cap he wore, then went out, shutting the door quietly behind him.

As Mrs M settled down to her breakfast, Kincade made his way along the corridor, then up a staircase to the next floor. He knocked briefly on a door and, on being bidden to "Enter", let himself into the owner's suite.

The owner, Mr James Bond, a tall, brown-haired, blue-eyed man, looked up from the desk where he sat working. "Kincade."

"Morning sir."

"Everything all right?"

"Yes, sir." 

"How's our newest guest settling in?"

Kincade wasn't surprised that his boss was asking about Mrs M; he might leave the day-to-day management of the place to Kincade and Miss Lynd, his financial manager, but he always paid close attention to even the smallest details of the running of Skyfall Inn.

"She's still no very eager to be mixing with yon guests," he answered. "I just took her breakfast in to her."

Bond nodded. "Well, let's hope she feels a bit more sociable in a day or two."

"Sir."

Bond gave Kincade instructions about two of the other guests, concerning their desire to try their intentions to go climbing the following day, then gave him the weekly order for food and drink to be placed online so it could be delivered later that day.

After he'd gone, Bond sat back in his chair and drank his coffee contemplatively. He knew a good deal about 'Mrs M', as Kincade called her, since the man who'd booked her reservation had given him several pieces of information. Bill Tanner had insisted on speaking to Bond personally, and while he normally left everything to Kincade, the older man had been insistent that it was best that Bond accede to his request in this instance.

For example, Bond knew that Mrs Mawdsley had been a very senior person in British overseas intelligence; that she was still recovering psychologically from a near-fatal gunshot wound; and that the injury was the reason why she'd taken a retirement for which she wasn't in the least prepared.

"She's been cooped up in her London flat for the last six weeks since she got out of the hospital, and I think it would do her good to get away, preferably somewhere with lots of wide open spaces. The psychiatrist thinks she'll have fewer nightmares that way." Tanner had paused for a long moment, before continuing, "You understand, sir, that I'm telling you this in the strictest confidence. I'm very concerned for her mental and emotional well-being, but she wouldn't thank me for 'meddling' as she'd see it. But I wouldn't want you, your staff, or your other guests worried if you should find her sleepwalking, or hear her screaming in the night. Her dreams are _very_ bad."

"I understand, Mr Tanner, and you needn't worry. We take great care of all our guests, and I shall personally see to it that my staff are forewarned, and that she's accommodated in rooms where she won't be bothered."

"Thank you Mr Bond."

007-007-007

It was two days later that James Bond and Mrs Mawdsley first met; Kincade had taken to his bed early the night before suffering from a bout of rheumatism, and Miss Lynd was dealing with the monthly accounts and stock-taking, so no one had brought breakfast up to Mrs Mawdsley as usual. Hunger had driven her downstairs to venture into the dining room where she hoped to grab a few items before retreating back upstairs to her suite.

She was just pouring herself a large mug of coffee when a very affable voice spoke a greeting behind her, startling her so badly that she sloshed some of the coffee onto her hand.

"Bloody hell, man! Must you creep up on people like that?" she demanded furiously, biting back curses as her eyes stung with tears from the shock and pain.

"Here, let me." The man took the coffee mug and pot from her hands, then grabbed a clean linen napkin and wrapped it lightly around her hand. "Let's get this dealt with," he said, putting an arm around her shoulders, which she promptly shrugged off.

"I'm not in my dotage _yet_ young man! Just get me a First Aid kit." 

"You need cold water on that," the man said. "Come with me please, Mrs Mawdsley."

She glared up at him, but followed him from the dining room, along the corridor and into a small staff bathroom, where she sat with her hand under the cold tap for ten minutes. He took a First Aid box down from a shelf, then knelt at her feet, and after carefully patting the injured area dry, he applied a sterile dressing.

"You'll have to make sure you keep that clean," he told her.

"Yes, yes, I know," she said tetchily. "I've probably dealt with more domestic incidents than you've had hot dinners, young man."

"Not to mention other sorts of injuries, I presume, given your line of work."

She snatched her hand back and stood up, giving him her haughtiest stare. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Mr – ?" She paused, waiting for him to supply a name. 

"Bond, James Bond," he said, smiling as he smoothly got to his feet. "Owner of Skyfall Inn."

She didn't gape at him, as it was beneath her dignity, and her pride was one of the few things she felt she had left, but she did blink in surprise: she hadn't expected Skyfall's owner to be such a young man. Not only young, she thought, but also tall, well-muscled, and handsome.

"Let's see about getting you some breakfast, shall we?" he suggested as he held the bathroom door open for her.

"Thank you, but I'm no longer hungry," she said, ignoring the treacherous rumbling of her stomach as she turned away and headed back to her suite.

Bond watched her go, a rueful expression in his blue eyes. He feared that he'd made a lasting impression on Mrs Mawdsley, and that it wasn't a good one.

007-007-007

She returned to her suite, still hungry, but also confused about her feelings for Mr James Bond: she was angered by his reference to her former work and assumed that Bill Tanner had been telling tales out of school, but his touch as he'd dealt with the coffee burn had been sure and gentle, and his manner was kind. Before she could begin brooding there was a knock on her door and she opened it warily, fearing it was the same Mr Bond; instead there was a dark-haired woman of about Mr Bond's age on the threshold, carrying a large tray.

"Mrs Mawdsley, I'm Vesper Lynd, the financial manager here at Skyfall Inn. I must apologise for our oversight regarding your breakfast: Mr Kincade's currently laid up with rheumatism and, most unfortunately, we forgot to depute someone else to bring up your usual tray. May I come in?"

Mrs Mawdsley stepped back, pulling the door open wider. "Thank you, Miss Lynd."

Vesper Lynd carried the tray across to the table by the window, setting it down carefully, then delved into the pocket of her jacket. "Mr Bond asked me to provide you with some fresh dressings for your hand. If you need any assistance in putting them on, it being your dominant hand, I'd be glad to help. Just ring 3 on the internal phone, and I'll be along straight away."

She nodded. "I appreciate the offer, Miss Lynd."

"Please, call me Vesper," the younger woman said with a pleasant smile. 

"That's an unusual name."

Vesper nodded. "Believe me, I've regretted the orphanage manager's sense of humour a number of times."

"I'm sorry," Mrs Mawdsley said, immediately regretting bringing up the subject. She knew some orphans were very touchy about their status.

"You've nothing to apologise for," Vesper assured her. She leaned a little closer, and lowered her voice. "I have to tell you that you've made quite an impression on James, and he's kicking himself for startling you so badly that he caused you to injure yourself."

"Well, he made quite an impression on me," she answered, lifting her right hand slightly.

"Mmm, but not a good impression. James prides himself on his ability to charm women of all ages, and it's been a long time since he's failed so badly." Vesper gave her a rather wicked smile. "Between you and me, it's makes a nice change."

Mrs Mawdsley raised her eyebrows. "Oh?"

Vesper chuckled. "I call him 'Mr Smooth' when he's been particularly obnoxious about his winning ways with women."

"You've known him a while, I gather?"

Vesper nodded. "We're old flames, actually. He and I were an item when we were both up at Oxford, fifteen years ago. But I went off to London to work for the Treasury, and he came up here to set up the Skyfall Inn, so we parted company. We remained friends, though, and when I decided, three years ago, that I'd had enough of the rat race, he offered me the post of financial manager here. He'd always found book-keeping tedious, and Kincade has no aptitude for numbers, so I jumped at the chance."

"You don't find it too bleak and depressing up here then, after London?"

"Oh no!" Vesper was hearty in her denial. "I love it – so much space and sky and fresh air. My blood pressure dropped dramatically after I moved up here." She gave her another smile. "I'm sorry I can't stay and talk longer – I have the monthly accounts and stock-taking to get through today, but maybe you'll join me for a drink before dinner tonight? Say seven thirty in my suite? I'm in _Sea Otter_ upstairs."

"Thank you. I think I'd like that."

"Good. And don't forget, if you need me, just dial 3." Vesper made her way to the door unhurriedly.

Mrs Mawdsley nodded, then sat down to her belated breakfast, which she ate in an absent-minded manner, her thoughts circling Mr James Bond, and Vesper's revelations about him.

007-007-007

One floor up, Vesper was recounting most of her conversation to James Bond, who'd abjectly begged her to take Mrs Mawdsley some breakfast after he'd managed to so spectacularly screw up his first encounter with her. She opted to leave out the bits where she had poked fun at James, knowing that he, like the majority of men, could be terribly vain, and was very proud of his ability to charm women.

Bond wanted to join Vesper and Mrs Mawdsley for their preprandial drink, but Vesper refused to agree to it, threatening to throw him out bodily if necessary should he invade her suite.

"Give the poor woman a chance, James. Today's the first day she's emerged from her shell, not to mention her rooms, and the first thing that happens is you startling her half out of her wits so that she ends up hurt. Give her a bit of breathing space, at least until tomorrow."

He grumbled under his breath in response to this, but eventually acquiesced.

As Vesper moved towards the door, she paused, then turned back for a moment. "And just remember, James, Mrs M's not your typical sort of woman. I don't know just what she's been through, but it's obvious to me that she's been badly hurt. If all you're intent on doing is proving to yourself, and everyone else, that even a woman of her age isn't immune to your famous charm, then save it for someone who's not as hurt and unhappy as Mrs Mawdsley."

She strode out, and Bond was left scowling at the door that had banged shut in her wake. He was stung that she thought he was only interested in Mrs Mawdsley as a potential conquest so that he could prove himself. It was true that he occasionally found a temporary bed partner amongst the Skyfall guests, but none had ever come to him unwillingly, and while one or two of them had been of more mature years, he hadn't set out to charm them into his bed simply to prove he could.

He wasn't even sure that was what he wanted in seeking to further his relationship with Mrs Mawdsley, though he freely admitted that she was a very fine-looking woman, and while her passport gave her age as seventy, she certainly didn't look it.

No, what he wanted most, just at the moment, was to be her friend since she seemed to him to be in need of one. Even in the short space of time which he'd spent with her this morning, he'd sensed for himself her loneliness. He thought of a wounded lioness he'd once seen while on safari in Africa, and felt that it was an apt metaphor for Mrs Mawdsley: the injury she'd received, which had forced retirement on her, had left her wounded in spirit as well as body. He had a feeling that she probably resented her enforced idleness after running MI6.

She needed, he thought, something to take her out of herself, something to challenge her, so that she could overcome her nightmares and feel capable again.

007-007-007

Bond hadn't seen Vesper or Mrs Mawdsley at dinner time, and he concluded that Vesper had invited the other woman to dine with her in her suite. He had eaten with the other half dozen guests in the main dining room, and been his usual charming and affable self, so that no one (expect, perhaps, Kincade, who was up and about again) suspected that he was distracted by the absence of his financial manager and his other guest.

Kincade went up to see Bond about an hour after dinner, and found his employer, Scotch in hand, pacing the carpet in front of the windows, which were still uncurtained despite the encroaching darkness.

"If you're after wooing the lady, Mr Bond, you'll need to treat her as a lady: with respect and courtesy," Kincade said in his usual forthright manner.

Bond raised an eyebrow at the older man. "Who said anything about wooing her?" he asked tetchily. "I just want to be her friend."

"Aye, I daresay, but ye ken she's a very special woman. And very troubled at the moment. Be kind to her, that's what I recommend."

"Very well, Kincade." Bond's tone was dismissive, and the older man recognised that to say any more would be to trespass on their long friendship, so he kept silent, and turned to business matters instead.

Vesper also came in to see him before retiring for the night, and Bond found himself frustrated in his attempts to get his old flame to tell him what the two women had discussed over dinner.

"Mind your own, James," she said when he tried to press her for at least a tidbit of information. 

"Did she at least mention my name in anything other than a negative manner?" Bond asked.

Vesper mimed zipping her lips closed and throwing away the key. "I've no intention of sharing _any_ confidences with you, James, so stop asking." 

"Women!" he said grumpily after Vesper had bid him goodnight and left.

He finished his drink and took himself into his bathroom to prepare for bed. Afterwards he settled amongst his pillows with a copy of Tennyson's _Ulysses_ , which he was re-reading for the umpteenth time.

He had been asleep for about two and a half hours when he was disturbed by shouts, and it took him a moment to realise the noise was coming from Mrs Mawdsley's rooms, which were directly below his own. He quickly shoved his feet into his slippers, tightened the belt around his Kimono-style top, grabbed his keys, then hurried downstairs.

He knocked on Mrs Mawdsley's door, but was unsurprised when he didn't get an answer. He tried the handle, and found it locked, so he let himself in with the master key. It sounded like she was having a nightmare, to judge from the cries he could hear as entered the suite. He flicked on the light and hurried through to the bedroom where he saw her lying tangled in her bedding, apparently fighting with some assailant to judge by the way her arms were flailing around. He hurried across to the bed, calling her name; as he leaned over her to shake her awake, a fist connected with his jaw and he found himself falling backwards onto the floor with some force.

"Bloody hell," he said softly, shocked at the strength of the blow. He was sure he'd have a bruise there. He picked himself back up and made a point of grabbing hold of Mrs Mawdsley's wrists before he tried a second time to wake her.

She started up from the bed with a cry of fear.

"Mrs Mawdsley, you're safe, you're safe. It's all right. It's James Bond here. No one's going to hurt you. You're safe."

It took a few moments for his words to penetrate, then he saw recognition in her eyes before embarrassment took over.

"It's all right," he repeated. "You're quite safe."

"I apologise, Mr Bond." 

Her voice was hoarse and shaky, and he released her wrists to sit on the edge of the bed beside her. She leant against his shoulder, so he dared to put his arm around her.

"There's no need to apologise," he said quietly. "No one is responsible for their dreams. It must have been some nightmare, though, because you thumped me and I ended up on the floor."

She pulled away abruptly, looking horrified. "Oh no," she said, "I – "

"Please, Mrs Mawdsley. You don't need to apologise." He put his arm back around her shoulders and she allowed him to draw her close again. "Besides, now we're even. I caused you to burn your hand," he touched the back of her hand lightly, "and you socked me on the jaw."

She gave a shaky laugh which rapidly became sobs, and he held her close, both arms wrapped around her shoulders as she cried on his shoulder. He felt his stomach tighten, and he wished desperately that there was some way he could banish the nightmares for her.


	2. Chapter 2

007-007-007

Marion Mawdsley was deeply embarrassed: to have punched James Bond on the jaw and knocked him down during her nightmare was bad enough, but then to sob all over him was even worse. Men hated to be cried on, in fact they hated all emotional excess; she remembered the one occasion when she'd broken down in front of her late husband following a miscarriage, and how uncomfortable he'd become.

She straightened up, easing herself away from his comforting presence, and tried to find her handkerchief. She was sure she looked a fright, and she felt foolish, as well as vulnerable, and that was an unfamiliar feeling.

"Why don't you let me straighten out your bed for you?" he suggested.

She blushed, then nodded and allowed him to help her out of the tangle of bedding; he held her arm as he guided her over to the armchair beside the dying fire, and once she was seated, put some more wood on the fire, and poked it until it was blazing again. She watched, mildly amused, as he remade the bed again, with hospital corners no less.

"There you are," he said, his tone satisfied as he straightened out the pillows. He turned to her and must have seen amusement in the quirk of her lips because he raised an eyebrow at her. She shook her head, determined not to comment, and saw him smile.

"Can I get you anything? A drink, perhaps? Scotch? Cocoa? Camomile tea?"

"Would you think me very decadent if I said Scotch?" she asked.

"Oh terribly," he answered, perfectly straight-faced, but she could see the twinkle in his blue eyes as he came towards her. "Why don't you get back into bed, and I'll fetch it for you?"

She nodded, then allowed him to help her back into the bed, reflecting that he had very charming manners, just as Vesper had warned her. However, she was still feeling slightly shaken by her nightmare, so she was grateful his attentiveness.

"I'll be back in a few minutes."

She nodded, and he went away. She realised he'd gone upstairs to his suite when she heard the floorboards above her creak. He returned a few moments later with a cut-glass tumbler, half filled with Scotch, in one hand, and a book in the other. He passed her the glass and she gratefully took a mouthful, then nodded at the book. 

"What's that?"

He looked almost bashful, she thought, as he told her it was Tennyson's _Ulysses_. "I thought you might like me to read to you for a bit, help you to settle after the dream, before you try to sleep again."

"It will probably help," she agreed. She patted the bedding beside her. "Why don't you sit there, then you won't have to strain your voice?"

He looked startled, but he quickly settled himself beside her, his long legs stretched out in front of him as he began to read. 

It didn't take her long to realise that he was very fond of the poem: his reading wasn't the least stilted, as would have been the case of someone unfamiliar with what they were reading. Instead, his voice was full of meaning and cadences that beguiled her, and she began to relax and feel sleepy again.

007-007-007

Bond took the whiskey tumbler from Mrs Mawdsley's slackened grasp and set it gently on the bedside table. He read for another ten minutes to ensure she was properly asleep, then slipped off the bed and crept from her room so that he wouldn't disturb her. As he made his way back to his own room, he hoped that she would sleep until morning, and as he settled back into his own bed, he recalled the frisson of desire he'd felt when she'd invited him to sit on the bed with her while he read to her. His cock began to stiffen, but he made no move to touch himself; he preferred, for the time being at least, not to wank over her. He knew, now, that he didn't just want to be her friend, he wanted rather more than that from her. He found the difference in their ages something of a turn-on as he was sure she could teach him a thing or two. 

The following morning he'd already had breakfast in his suite of rooms while going over Vesper's list of items they needed to order as a consequence of her stock-taking the previous day, when he encountered Mrs Mawdsley on her way to breakfast in the dining room. 

"Good morning, Mrs Mawdsley. How are you this morning?"

"Good morning, Mr Bond. I'm well." 

He saw her looking at his jaw, and he couldn't help touching a finger to the bruise that was already darkening his skin. Her expression was difficult to read, but he suspected she was still feeling embarrassed that she'd hit him, so he sought to change the subject.

"Has anyone given you the full tour of the house, yet?"

One eyebrow rose. "No, Mr Bond."

"Perhaps you would allow me to show you over the ancestral pile after breakfast, then?"

"Thank you, I'd like that."

He nodded. "I'll meet you in the entrance hall in an hour, if that's convenient?"

"Very well."

He gave her a little bow. "Enjoy your breakfast, Mrs Mawdsley."

"Thank you, Mr Bond." 

She walked away, and Bond turned towards the staircase, grinning to himself. As he hurried up the stairs to his suite, he met Vesper coming down from hers and she stopped, giving him a quizzical look.

"You have a positively Cheshire Cat grin," she observed.

"Well, I've just persuaded Mrs Mawdsley to let me give her the full tour of Skyfall," he explained. "I consider that progress."

One eyebrow rose. "Well, just watch your step with her." She reached out and ran her fingertips over the bruise on his jaw. "That's new."

"Yes." He caught hold of her hand and kissed the knuckles. "I'll see you later." He neatly side-stepped Vesper, then continued up the stairs, knowing her curiosity would be aroused by his non-explanation of the bruise. He wondered whether Mrs Mawdsley would enlighten her; he rather thought she might not since she still seemed embarrassed by the fact she'd hit him so hard.

007-007-007

Mrs Mawdsley awaited her host with no small amount of curiosity. His offer to give her a tour had seemed spontaneous, but it was his reference to the 'ancestral pile' that particularly intrigued her.

He appeared only a few minutes after she'd arrived in the entrance hall and she noticed immediately that he'd changed out of the suit he'd been wearing earlier, and he now wore a blue jumper underneath an older Tweed jacket, with a warm scarf around his neck, and a pair of tight black jeans that showed off his well-muscled legs to perfection. As he greeted her and offered her his arm, she abruptly realised that he could well prove to be as dangerous a man as any she'd encountered during her long career with MI6. She was intrigued by the fact that he appeared to be interested in her. It had been a long time since any man, but particularly such a young and handsome one, had shown an interest in her, and it excited her.

"Shall we start at the top and work our way down?" he suggested.

"Why not?"

He gave a quick nod, and they set off up to the attics, which had been converted into rooms for Kincade and the cook. The next floor down held Vesper's and Bond's suites, plus two other suites for guests.

"How many guests can you take?" she asked as he showed her into his suite.

He glanced down at her. "There are seven guest suites in total. I had the house totally remodelled once I decided to open it up as a guest house."

"You mentioned it was the 'ancestral pile' earlier."

He nodded. "This was my family's home for over a century, but my parents were killed in a skiing accident when I was a boy. Kincade looked after the place until I came of age, and that's when I decided to turn it into a guest house. It was too big for just one person to live in, and I couldn't see myself marrying and having a brood of children. Plus, Glen Coe's a very popular tourist destination, so I knew that I was onto a winner in that respect. And in the last fifteen years of running the Skyfall Inn, I've never not made a profit."

"Was this your room, when you were a child?" she asked, looking around.

He smiled. "Only that corner," he said, pointing to the far corner by the window. "The remodelling changed the shape and size of all the rooms."

He took her down to the ground floor, then led her through to the gunroom. "I ought to sell this collection off, really," he observed. "Most of them aren't used."

"Oh, but some of them are beautiful," Mrs Mawdsley said. "You've got some fine examples of gunsmithing here." She wandered over to look at the contents of the racks, and he watched as she took one down, a handsome hunting rifle, which he noticed she handled with due care and respect.

Then she spotted an old Browning and with a happy smile, took it down, then proceeded to take it to pieces, showing him all the component parts, before she reassembled it again. He watched her, totally mesmerised: her hands were quick and deft, with no age-induced fumbling or struggling. It wasn't until she looked across at him, her grin triumphant, that he realised that he was thoroughly aroused by what he'd just seen, and he had to fight a sudden urge to pull her to him and kiss her deeply.

He cleared his throat huskily and asked if she'd like to see the stable block, then glanced out of the window and noticed it had begun to rain again.

"Oh, never mind," he said, feeling disappointed.

She was still smiling, and happily agreed to visit it. "It's only a bit of rain," she said, sounding far more cheerful.

"Very well." He offered her his arm again, and they walked rapidly across to the stable block. The ground floor had been turned into a garage for the guests' cars, while the upper floor had been converted into an artist's studio with living quarters as well.

"Whose car is that?" Mrs Mawdsley asked, pointing to a cream Aston Martin at the far right hand side of the parking area.

"Mine. I inherited it from one of my great uncles."

"She's a beauty."

His eyebrows rose; there were even more hidden depths to this woman than he'd supposed, judging by her apparently genuine appreciation of both his car and the guns. He sat on the bonnet of the car, legs akimbo, and leaned back as he watched her wandering down the row and back again, raindrops beading her white hair. She came to stand between his legs, and he wondered if she was aware of how aroused he was currently; he rather hoped his jeans were hiding the evidence. 

"I must thank you, Mr Bond, for your kindness to me last night."

He gave a slight shrug. "I'd have done the same for anyone, Mrs Mawdsley."

"Marion, please."

He smiled. "And will you call me James, Marion?"

She smiled back. "Very well, James." 

He started to straighten up out of his slouch, and she put a hand on his chest. He raised his eyebrows, feeling slightly confused, until she leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the mouth. He lifted his hands to clasp her waist, then slid his left arm around her back as he used his right hand to hold the back of her head while he kissed her back.

She shifted closer, pressing her body against his, and he heard a murmur of approval as she pressed against his hard cock. He dropped his hand down her back and reached between her legs, and she shivered as his fingers touched her pussy through her knickers. He switched hands, deciding it would be far easier to do this right-handed, from the front. He pushed aside the material, silk he suspected, and began to stroke her properly, and she kissed him even harder, biting at his bottom lip.

Bond totally lost track of time as he continued to pleasure Marion, while she kissed him as if her life depended on it. She came with a soft cry, her whole body shuddering against his as her muscles clenched tightly around his fingers. Eventually she pushed herself upright, having slumped against him in the throes of her orgasm, then brushed a hand against his crotch.

"We should take care of this," she said. "But I am not having sex with you in or on the car. I'm too old for such shenanigans."

He chuckled softly. "You're only as old as the man who feels you," he teased.

She laughed, throwing her head back. "James! You are a very bad man."

"Mmm, but apparently you like bad men." He leaned forward and gave her a quick kiss on the lips, then said, "The artist's studio upstairs is currently unoccupied. And I've got all the master keys with me."

"Well, then," she said, smiling wickedly, "Waste not, want not."

He grinned back at her, then took her hand and led her over to a door that led through to a private staircase to the studio above.

Marion wasted no time, once they were in the living quarters, in unbuttoning his jeans and slipping her small hand inside to ease his cock free.

"I warn you now," he told her, his voice husky, "that I won't last long if you're going to manhandle me like that."

"Well, now, that would be a shame," she said. She pushed on his chest and he toppled backwards onto the bed, then she dragged his jeans down as far as his ankles before whisking her knickers off. She straddled him, and he groaned as he realised she was going to ride him.

"I haven't got any condoms with me," he told her.

"Are you clean?"

He nodded. "But I would say that, wouldn't I?"

"I shall trust that you're not lying. You're very big," she observed, guiding his cock into her pussy. "I like big men."

"Fuck!" It was all he could find to say as she sank down, her slick, warm pussy engulfing his prick. He saw her eyes open wide as she felt him stretching her, and then she was moving: rocking to and fro, circling her hips, and clenching her muscles tightly around his cock. All he could do was hold onto her hips and enjoy the ride until he couldn't contain himself any longer.

He felt her muscles clench tightly around him moments after his orgasm, then she stretched out on top of him and he wrapped his arms around her.

"Thank you." She lifted her head slightly to kiss his cheek.

"Thank you, too," he said quietly. He found himself moved by what they had done, moreso than was usual for him in such a situation. 

They remained where they were for some time, both dozing in the aftermath of their love-making. 

007-007-007

Marion was the first to move, as she had a pressing need to use the bathroom. James directed her to it then, when she returned, suggested they had better return to the main house. 

"Will you join me for lunch?" he asked as he straightened his clothes.

"I'd like that," she said, smiling up at him. 

They made their way downstairs again, and she slipped her hand into his as they set off back to the house, both of them completely oblivious to the rain that was now hammering down.

"You'd better go and change," he said, once they were inside again. "Don't want you catching a cold."

"Very well." She pushed up onto tiptoes and he ducked his head to meet her in a kiss, then she made her way along the corridor to her suite.

As she undressed Marion couldn't help reflecting that she hadn't felt this good about herself since before she'd been injured, which was now three months ago. She would have to thank Bill Tanner, after all, for booking her into Skyfall Inn, although she had no intention of telling him just why she was grateful.

It was funny, she thought, that she should find herself having a fling with a man half her age; in the four years since she'd lost her husband, she hadn't been involved with anyone else – work had kept her far too busy. She was fairly sure that this was going to be nothing more than a holiday 'romance', especially for James, but it didn't matter. The fact that a fit and handsome young man should want her as much as he clearly had this morning was what counted: he had restored some of her self-confidence, which had been at such a low ebb since the rogue agent had shot her. 

She finished changing, then made her way upstairs to James' suite, trying not to speculate about what else they might do together.

He called a cheerful sounding "Come in!" in response to her knock and she went in with a smile. He strode across the room, locked the door behind her, then embraced and kissed her as if he hadn't seen her for months, instead of a mere fifteen minutes.

"Well," she said, tugging her blouse straight again. "It's nice to be missed." She quirked an eyebrow at him, and he laughed sheepishly, then took her hand and led her over to the dining table near the fire, where lunch had been set out for them.

"Kincade is delighted to know that you're having lunch with me, and hopes you'll enjoy the meal," James told her as he held her chair for her until she was seated, then settled himself across the corner from her.

"You didn't tell him – " she began, suddenly anxious. It wasn't that she wanted to keep their relationship secret, per se, it was just that she wasn't used to being the subject of gossip.

"I didn't tell him anything, except that you were joining me for lunch today," James said quickly, squeezing her hand in a reassuring manner.

"Sorry," she said, blushing slightly. "It's not that I'm ashamed of what we did, I just – " She paused, trying to order her thoughts. 

"You're used to working for MI6," he said, "which means keeping secrets is second nature to you."

She nodded, glad that he seemed to understand.

"It's all right, Marion," he said softly. "I've no desire to be the subject of gossip, nor of any lectures from Vesper."

"Vesper?" Marion asked, surprised. "Why would she lecture you?"

"Well, she considers it her duty to be my moral guardian, or something. She thinks I'm too much of a womaniser. She'd dearly like to see me 'settle down' as she puts it, and thinks I shouldn't be so quick to fraternise with guests." He ducked his head, a blush tingeing his cheeks, and she found herself amused by his embarrassment.

"My dear boy," she said softly, leaning over to lift his chin. "I hadn't supposed you were a virgin, and I _have_ been married. You're a healthy young man with a healthy young man's appetites."

He bent forwards and kissed her softly. "Thank you."

She smiled. "Let's eat."


	3. Chapter 3

007-007-007

Bond had cleared his afternoon schedule, so after lunch, he and Marion established themselves on the sofa to talk. He sat with his back against the arm, his long legs stretched out along the seat, and she settled in beside him, her body tucked tight against his and his arms around her.

"You realise that I can't tell you about my work," she began, "as I'm still covered by the Official Secrets Act. Strictly speaking, Bill Tanner shouldn't have told you anything about my role, even though I'm retired now."

He tightened his arms around her middle slightly. "I understand. Tell me about your family, where you grew up, where you studied, or something about the countries you've visited instead." 

They spent most of the afternoon talking, first about their respective families, then James got Marion to talk about the countries where she had lived and worked. She told him about the various native customs she'd encountered in Hanoi, Hong Kong, Germany, Russia, and Jamaica, and the ways in which she had interacted with the locals, and the other expats. 

Late in the afternoon James took her to bed and made love to her slowly and tenderly, after which they slept for a couple of hours. 

They were half way through dinner when Marion started to feel unwell.

"What's wrong?" James asked worriedly, 

"I think I might have caught a cold after all," she said apologetically, rubbing at her aching head.

"You'd better go to bed," he said immediately. "Do you – "

"I'd better go to my own room," she said, answering his question before he could finish asking it. "You don't want to have to explain my presence to Vesper, do you?"

He scowled. "Would you think me a complete wimp if I say 'no'?"

She laughed, then began coughing, so he gave her some water, then helped her out of her chair and downstairs to her suite. She was shivering violently by this time, so he assisted her to undress and change into her pyjamas, which he was pleased to see were thick flannel ones, then he got her into bed.

"I'm going to fetch you a hot water bottle, and make you a hot toddy," he said.

She nodded, her chattering teeth making speech impossible for the moment.

James hurried out and went to the kitchen where he asked Mrs McDonald to fill up a hot water bottle while he made a hot toddy. He carried both back to Marion's room, tucking the hot water bottle into the bed by her feet, then he helped her to sit up and supported her back while she drank the hot toddy. 

"I'd better build up your fire again," he observed. "Do you want some more blankets?"

She nodded, so he kissed her on the temple, then went to the fireplace to add some more logs to the fire. He got to his feet, dusted off his hands and glanced back over at the bed, noting that Marion had her eyes closed and that she had finally stopped shivering. He slipped out of her room and hurried upstairs to fetch some more blankets from the linen closet.

On his way back down he met Kincade, so he briefly explained that Mrs Mawdsley had been taken poorly.

"Do ye wish me to ring for yon doctor chappie?" asked Kincade. 

James shook his head. "No, we won't bother dragging him up here unless it's necessary. He'll only tell her to rest, keep warm, and drink plenty of fluids, which she knows anyway."

"Will ye be telling Miss Lynd?"

"Yes, I'll do that shortly."

"I'll say goodnight then."

"Goodnight Kincade." He hurried down the stairs, and met Vesper in the corridor.

"Where are you going in such a hurry?" 

"I'm taking these to M – Mrs Mawdsley." He hoped she didn't notice his hesitation – he'd so very nearly called her 'Marion' and Vesper would immediately have understood the significance of that slip. "She's gone down with a nasty cold."

"Oh dear. I hope she'll be all right."

"I'm sure she will be, so long as she's looked after."

"Which you intend to do?" Vesper asked.

"Yes, since you ask. Now, please excuse me." He stepped around her and hurried on to Marion's room, but he could feel Vesper's eyes trying to bore holes into him.

007-007-007

As it turned out, Bond didn't spend time looking after Marion as he'd intended to do since he soon found he had a cold almost as nasty. Vesper looked after Marion, while Bond allowed Kincade to bring him meals, but otherwise refused to be 'mollycoddled', as he phrased it.

The pair were in bed for three days, a period spent in contemplation of their relationship by both parties. The more she thought about it, the less could Marion bring herself to believe that James' interest in her would outlast her stay at the Skyfall Inn since, by his own admission, he made something of a habit of having brief affairs with women guests. While she'd regained some of her self-confidence in response to James' obvious interest in her, she was still plagued by insecurities; life beyond MI6 had no obvious shape or meaning, and she had no desire to be a burden to anyone. For James, the issue was nearly as difficult: he feared abandonment. By limiting himself to brief flings with women whom he knew from the outset wouldn't be in his life for long, he believed he could protect himself from the risk of actually falling in love with a woman who might then walk out on him a few years later. (In his secret heart he still hadn't fully forgiven Vesper for choosing a career over marriage to him after they'd graduated from Oxford.) The problem he now faced was that he didn't want just a brief fling with Marion; in fact, he didn't want her to leave Skyfall at all. He found he could easily picture her remaining in Scotland, and realised that he cared about her in a way he'd never cared about any woman since Vesper. But he knew that he had nothing to offer her that could possibly compare to being the head of MI6.

007-007-007

Marion was glad to get up after three days of enforced bed rest, but she still felt weak from a lack of exercise, so she was glad to lean on Vesper's arm as the latter took her down to breakfast that Sunday morning. She hadn't said anything to the younger woman, but Marion was very much hoping to see James this morning. Vesper had told her that he'd succumbed to the same cold that she'd had when she'd explained that she would be looking after Marion while she was ill. 

"Do you ride?" Vesper asked.

"I used to, when I was a girl," Marion answered. "I haven't done for years, though. Why?"

"I wondered if you'd like to go for a gentle ride this afternoon, now the weather's improved."

"I think I'll wait and see how I feel after lunch," Marion said. Much as she had grown to like the younger woman, who had a similar no-nonsense attitude to her own, she was rather more interested in talking with James in order to try to establish how he felt about her.

Vesper nodded understandingly, then pushed open the dining room door for Marion to precede her. The room was almost empty, most of the other guests having left the previous day. Of Skyfall's owner, James Bond, there was no sign, although Marion knew Vesper had told him that she was planning to get up today. She swallowed a sigh of disappointment, allowed Vesper to settle her at a small circular table by the window, and accepted the younger woman's offer to fetch her breakfast from the buffet set out along one wall. 

Since she hadn't seen James at breakfast, and Vesper had gone to do some paperwork, Marion wandered around the ground floor until Kincade, apparently casually, bumped into her and told her that Bill Tanner had just telephoned to book a room for himself and that he'd be arriving on Thursday. Kincade then asked if Mr Bond had shown her the Priest's Hole when he'd given her the tour of the house. Surprised, she said he hadn't, so Kincade took her to see the hidden door, explaining that a tunnel led from the house out onto the moors near the old chapel. He assured her that it was well-lit along its entire length and invited her to 'take a wee walk' to explore it.

Since Marion could think of nothing better to do in the light of James' non-appearance, she nodded, then slipped through the door and began to follow the passage. She'd been walking for about ten minutes when she found a bench that had been set into a recess in the wall, and on it sat James Bond, with a rather brooding air about him.

He looked up, startled by her approach, but before he could speak, Marion sat down beside him. 

"I can't help thinking that sitting in a damp tunnel is hardly conducive to making a full recovery from a bad cold," she observed, rather tartly, he thought.

"How did you know about the tunnel – no, don't tell me, Kincade showed it to you."

"Yes, he did. Do you mind?"

"No, not really." He sighed. "He knows I come down here to brood."

"What do you have to brood about?"

"You." He saw her eyebrow arch up in puzzlement, so he elaborated, "Us."

"What about us?" 

"I don't want you to leave Skyfall," he said, aware that he'd intended to be more subtle about this, but he'd just failed.

"Oh."

James thought Marion sounded as if she didn't know what to say to this rather bald statement, and he felt foolish for bringing up the matter.

"I'm sorry," he said, getting to his feet quickly. "I shouldn't have said anything. I shouldn't have started this with you – I've got nothing to offer you to induce you to stay."

Before he could stride away, however, a hand caught hold of his sleeve, and he found himself tugged back down onto the bench. Marion immediately reached up to grab his chin, turning his head towards her.

"You, my dear boy, are quite foolish."

"What – ?" he began, but the question was destined to remain unasked as she leaned in and kissed him very firmly on the mouth.

The kiss went on for quite a long time, and when she finally released him so that they could catch their breath, he was achingly hard. She immediately reached down and cupped his cock through his trousers, and he gasped, "Marion, please."

She unfastened his trousers, then eased his cock out, stroking it firmly, then she slipped off the bench and crouched down by his feet to take him into her mouth. He moaned, then clasped her head carefully as she sucked, licked, and lightly grazed his cock with her teeth, while squeezing and stroking his balls.

"Fuck!" He came hard, and she continued to suck, swallowing every last drop, before sliding his prick gently out of her mouth. 

James reached down and helped her up, then pulled her onto his lap. "Thank you," he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. He felt like weeping; it had been a long time since a woman had pleasured him in such a way.

"Now, why do you say you have nothing to offer me?" She had her arms around his neck as she sat sideways across his lap.

"Well, helping me to run Skyfall Inn – you could probably do that in your sleep, after running MI6 for however long you were in charge. It would be horribly tame, by comparison."

"James Bond, for an intelligent man, you're a bit of an idiot," she said.

Before he could object, she kissed him again, and grabbed his right wrist, placing his hand on her thigh, which made him smile against her mouth. He took the hint and slid his hand underneath her skirt until he found the edge of her knickers. He pushed the gusset aside and stroked her pussy lips. She moaned into his mouth, shuddering slightly, and he began stroking her more firmly, before slipping two fingers inside her.

She sucked on his tongue, then bit his bottom lip, and he groaned. He could feel his cock beginning to stir again, but he ignored it, determined to concentrate on pleasuring her. 

007-007-007

After their encounter in the tunnel, James led Marion back to the house, then took her up to his suite where they sat on the sofa and spent some time discussing their fears and wants concerning a relationship between them.

"There's not much I can do to reassure you about your worries about being abandoned," she told him. "I'm twice your age, so it's very likely that I'll die before you do."

"How long were you married?"

"Over forty years."

He sighed. "What if you got bored with me, though?"

She shook her head. "I could ask you the self-same question," she pointed out. "I'm twice your age. It's possible that I might suffer from a lingering illness of some kind before I die." She kissed his cheek. "Don't forget that old adage: there are only two certainties in this life, death and taxes. Everything else is uncertain, and we have to take risks, or else curl up in a ball somewhere and do nothing."

"I know."

"Look, we don't have to make a decision now. I'm booked in here for another two weeks, so let's see how we feel in two weeks time. You may have got bored with me before then."

He slid his arms around her. "Never. You couldn't bore me if you tried."

She laughed. "Now that sounds like a challenge."

"I'm sure you rise to every challenge," he answered, joining in her laughter.

"I try."

007-007-007

When Bill Tanner arrived on Thursday afternoon, he was delighted to see his former boss looking fit and well. She came out to the car to greet him, surprising him with a quick peck on the cheek that made him lift his eyebrows in wonderment.

"How was the drive?" she asked as he lifted his bag from the boot of his sedate Saab. 

"Not too bad, actually."

"Have you eaten? Mr Bond asked the cook to keep something aside for you if you hadn't had any lunch."

"I had some sandwiches," he glanced down at his watch, "about two hours ago. I could murder a cuppa."

She smiled, and he wondered if it was merely fancy that made him think she seemed to be glowing. She slipped her arm through his free one, surprising him again, and led him inside where they were met by the manager, Kincade. He immediately took Tanner's bag from him, then said he'd leave Mrs Mawdsley to show him to the dining room.

"I'll show ye to yer room in a wee while, after ye've bided a bit."

Tanner nodded, feeling somewhat bemused, as the old man tugged at the peak of his cap, nodded to M, then strode away with his bag.

"You know, even though I've been working for Mallory for several months now, I keep persisting in thinking of you as 'M'," Tanner said in a low voice as she led him towards the dining room.

She shook her head. "I think you can call me Marion now."

"Marion?"

"Make any Robin Hood jokes, Mr Tanner, and you won't live to regret it," she said, her tone stern.

"Really, Mrs Mawdsley, must you threaten my guests with death before they've barely set foot over the threshold?"

Tanner turned, startled by the voice which spoke behind him. He saw a tall man with brown hair and blue eyes, dressed in a silver grey two piece suit, crisp white shirt and a darker grey tie, standing by the door. He glanced at Marion, and was surprised to see that she was smiling fondly at the other man. He looked back at the man, whom he judged to be much his own age, and saw he was giving Marion much the same sort of smile. He shook his head mentally; he hadn't expected to discover that his former boss had fallen in love, but unless he was very much mistaken, that was exactly what had happened, and it appeared to be mutual.

"Good afternoon, Mr Tanner. My name's Bond, James Bond, and I'm the owner of Skyfall Inn."

Tanner took the outstretched hand and found his own being shaken very firmly. "Pleased to meet you Mr Bond. I don't need to ask if Marion's been well looked after, as I can see for myself that's the case."

Bond smiled. "Thank you, Mr Tanner. We've done our best."

Tanner noticed the smiles the pair shared and smiled a little himself. The two of them sat down with him to have a cup of tea while he ate some delicious, thickly-cut roast beef sandwiches and a piece of very moist fruit cake. They talked about London while he was eating, and Bond revealed he hadn't visited for over a year, which immediately caused Marion to invite him to visit her.

After he'd eaten, Bond showed him to his room, and told him that dinner was seven thirty.

"Mrs Mawdsley is in _Sea Eagle_ ," Bond said. "I'm sure you'd like to do some catching up with her."

"I would," Tanner agreed, while privately wondering just how much she was going to tell him. "I think I'll freshen up first, maybe have a nap, too, since I set out early from London."

Bond nodded. "I'll see you at dinner, then, if not before. I hope you enjoy your stay with us Mr Tanner."

"Thank you, I'm sure I will."

007-007-007

Bond popped along the corridor to see Marion for a few minutes. She opened the door the moment he knocked, and he locked it before taking her in his arms and kissing her ardently.

"I'm afraid we may have given ourselves away to Bill," she observed when he finally released her mouth.

"Mmm, probably. Do you mind?"

She shook her head. "No. He was a very good friend to me after I was shot."

"Oh, so you weren't serious about the death threat, then?" he teased.

"Not entirely."

"Good." He kissed her again and she seemed to melt against him, which made him very hard. "You carry on like that, dear woman, and I'm going to have to take you to bed."

"Mmm, wouldn't that be a shame."

He chuckled, then picked her up and carried her through to the bedroom. "I'm rather surprised that Vesper hasn't had anything to say about us," he observed as he lowered Marion onto her bed. "I can't believe she hasn't noticed."

"She doesn't strike me as the unobservant type," she agreed.

007-007-007

Vesper had noticed that James and Marion were on closer terms, but she had held her tongue because it was obvious to her that the two were very happy, and while she feared that James was just taking advantage of Marion's loneliness, she knew that he was unlikely to listen to anything she had to say on the matter.

She was looking for James when she ran into a man of about her own age who was standing in the corridor with a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Can I help you, Mr – ?"

"Tanner, Bill Tanner. I'm a friend of Mrs Mawdsley."

"Vesper Lynd, Financial Manager. Tell me, do you have a few minutes?"

He looked surprised, but nodded, and she led him back upstairs to her suite. "It's about Mrs Mawdsley," she said, gesturing for him to take a chair.

"Yes?"

"She and Mr Bond are –, that is to say, they seem to have become – "

"Lovers?" Tanner suggested.

"So I'm not imagining it." 

"If you are, I am too," he said. He was looking at her with a puzzled expression. "This seems to give you some concern."

"Well, I've known James a long time – we were at Oxford together, well, we're old flames, actually. But I've been working here for three years, and he's had a string of dalliances with women guests during that time, three or four a year. I'm just concerned for your friend, that he's taking advantage of her obvious loneliness."

"I see. Well, I appreciate your concern, Miss Lynd. But I can assure you that Mrs Mawdsley is more than capable of making decisions about such matters for herself. Moreover, in the years that I've known her, she has never let anyone take advantage of her, so if, as seems likely, she and Mr Bond have entered into a relationship, she, at least, has done so with her eyes wide open."

He got to his feet. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go and see my friend." He walked out unhurriedly, closing the door gently behind him.

"Oh Vesper!" she sighed to herself. "You really shouldn't have said anything." She only hoped that he would choose to keep their conversation to himself, otherwise she could expect to encounter James in a furious mood later.

007-007-007

Bill Tanner went back to London feeling relaxed after his four day break at Skyfall Inn. He also felt confident that M, or Marion as he knew he should call her now, was going to settle into a happier retirement than he'd anticipated when he'd booked the trip for her a month ago. It was quite clear to him that she and James Bond were very happy together, despite the age difference, and as he drove south he anticipated having a good gossip with Eve Moneypenny at some point once he shared this news with her. She, like Tanner, had been concerned for M's well-being following her abrupt retirement, and he knew that she had more or less adopted M as a surrogate mother during the eighteen months they'd worked together beforehand. Their bond had been strengthened by the fact that it had been Eve who'd taken down the rogue agent who'd attacked M while trying to take over MI6. 

007-007-007

"So, Mrs Mawdsley, you're going to try your luck with a man half your age?" James Bond asked early on the morning of Marion's return to London.

"Mmm, I think I might," she agreed, wriggling against him with a wicked grin.

He groaned and tightened his arms around her body as she lay on top of him. His semi-erect cock was still buried inside her after their love-making. "I swear I've known women my age who are less insatiable than you, Marion Mawdsley."

She laughed, then leaned forward to kiss him quick and hard on the mouth. "I'm just glad that you can keep up, or should I say, keep it up?"

"Wicked woman," he murmured, kissing her back.

"Admit it, you wouldn't have me any other way."

"My dear Marion, I would have you every which way I can!"

"Now who's wicked?" she demanded. 

He laughed, then kissed her again. The next couple of weeks were going to be quiet without her, but at least when she returned, she'd be coming back for good. He was, he knew, a very lucky man, and she seemed to think she was a lucky woman too. That was a reason to celebrate, so he tightened his hold on her, then rolled them both over so that he was on top. She grinned up at him, squeezing his cock with her pussy muscles, and he groaned, then began to thrust. 

He would, he decided, have to make a point of seeing Bill Tanner when he came down to London to collect Marion for her return to Skyfall Inn, and thank Tanner for sending her to him.


End file.
